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Book'i2^7^ 
Copyright N° /^ Cs 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



POEMS 



BY 



NAJAH E. WOODWARD 




BOSTON 

THE POET LORE COMPANY 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
I916 



Copyright, 1916, by Najah E. Woodward 



All Rights Reserved 






Thb Gorham Prbss, Boston, U. S. A. 




/^ 



MAY 10 1916 



H? To THE Memory 

Of My Father 
THERON ROYAL WOODWARD 



? 



CONTENTS 

To a Room 9 

Two Translations from the French of 

Eugene Piffault lo 

Reflection 1 1 

To the Child's Portrait 12 

To the Child Asleep 13 

Illusions 14 

Aftermath 15 

Generations 16 

Remembrance 17 

Babbie 18 

The Mother Sings Again 19 

Faith 20 

The Visions of Christ 21 

The Ghost Mother 22 

Infinite Love 23 

The Problem 24 

Loosening Fingers 25 

To One with Many Lovers 26 

Worthless 28 

To My Mother 29 

In the City of the Great 31 

The Unattainable 32 

To Amsterdam Ave . 33 

Written in 191 1 34 

To A Cuban Girl 35 

To Lucille 36 

His Rose 37 

The Unwearying Singer 38 

After the Rain 40 



CONTENTS 

A Legend 41 

A Christmas Carol 42 

A Woodland Reverie 43 

To Mrs. W. B. W 45 

The Soldier's Return 46 

Three Hymns 

Morning 47 

Noon 47 

Evening 48 

Constancy 49 

1915 Lullaby 50 

The Promised Land 51 

A Parody 52 

Fame 53 

A Fragment 54 

Unrecognized 55 

Spring .^ 56 

To Barrie's Pan 57 

The Adored One 58 

A Valentine 59 

Recollection 60 

The Land of Dreams 61 

A Toast 62 

Contentment 63 

Journey's End 64 



POEMS 



TO A ROOM 

Oh! little grey walls of a room so bare, 
I would you were papered with gold, 

I would that your windows were tinted with pearl. 
Leaden paned, to shut out the curious and bold. 

And the feet that within you, could leave no imprint 
Of the world's selfish, sorrow and sin, 

Would take all the years flight of time to your door, 
And arriving there, once more go in. 

Oh! little grey walls, oh pitiful walls! 

You are stripped of your pride for I know not 
how long. 
And the lights and the music no longer are yours, 

They are gone far away from my song. 

There are voices you long like myself, just to hear. 
There are faces you miss in the gloom. 

There are names that you love that are spoken no 
more 
In you, loved but empty grey Room! 

Oh mourn not little Room, for the future is fair, 

Although empty the present may be ; 
There are others as famous you love to have there, 

Once again happy hours you'll see. 

So be glad little Room as you stand in your place, 

Not forever your glory gone far ; 
Your time shall return for an hour, though brief, 

Oh walls that have sheltered a Star! 



TWO TRANSLATIONS FROM THE 
FRENCH OF EUGENIE PIFFAULT 



I 



How like an azure sky 
Your eyes with look so clear; 

So pure, so candid, and so high; 
Your lovely soul I see there, Dear. 

Soul that researches mine 
The night and morning through, 

Oh come with passion so divine, 
Come calm my love for you ! 

Of you I dream when sleep I take; 
Sweet soul, may Jesus bless; 

And think of you when I awake, 
And of your loveliness. 

Soul of my soul, oh Dear to me 
Our vows are witnessed above. 

That golden tie, the sign to me 
Of an eternal love. 



II 



I have on thy adored head 
Poured all the perfumed garden bed; 

Life's flowers ; and love ; and dawn's gold hue- 
Come oh beloved one; I want you! 



lO 



REFLECTION 

My thoughts like wild birds sing and soar, 
Like wild birds they return no more. 
When dawn is breaking lo! I stand, 
Eyes shaded with a wistful hand. — 

Like wild birds do they soar and sing 
On scarlet tinted spreading wing. 

They sing and soar like wild birds free. 
And nevermore return to me. 

At nightfall when the moon is high 
Lest they return a watch keep I — 

Where art thou gone forevermore 
Oh thoughts of mine that sing and soar? 



II 



TO THE CHILD'S PORTRAIT 

An Angel's face, serene and pure, 
Warm lips of red that seldom smiled. 

Wide eyes, reproachful, but demure. 
Half human, and half fairy Child. 

Long lashes lifted, brows as calm 
As skies and oceans deep and blue; 

Speak but one word, and like a balm 
Peace here shall stay her flight to you! 

Why do I pause before this long, 
Oh spirit in my troubled breast? 

Say, shall again my soul be strong 
If here awhile I leave it rest? 

An Angel's face, I know not why, 
When all about is dark and sad, 

I think of time that shall roll by; 
I see Thee, and my soul is glad. 



12 



TO THE CHILD ASLEEP 

Oh! Child asleep in your cosy nest, 
With your eyes shut in peaceful repose ; 

There are no sad thoughts on your beautiful brow, 
And no sighs on your lips, oh my Rose ! 

There is one quiet hand on the counterpane, 
And your dark locks lie round you with grace ; 

While the beauty of sleep, and the freedom from 
care 
Is reflected tonight on your face. 

And we think, as we gaze on you slumbering 
there, 
Of Another, Who sleeps as you do. 

How she carries your calm, and your smile on her 
lips, 
So we weep as we look upon you. 

Quite soon you shall rise with a smile for our grief. 
And we know it, but yet we still fear 

That while we have you as our comfort today. 
Tomorrow you may not be here. 

Oh! Child asleep in your cosy nest, 
Awaken and speak to us, smile! 

We are haunted with fear that you too might 
sleep on, 
And double our sorrow and trial. 



13 



ILLUSIONS 

Let me dream on, and on, 

Even for you I would never awake. 

There I can have and can hold with a breath 

Joyous in life and triumphant in death. 

Ills have no power, temptation is gone. 

What does life matter if I can dream on ? 

Let me dream on, and on, 
Grand are the melodies then I can hear — 
Sweet is your voice ; and your handclasp is blest. 
Sweeter in dreams than the roses I pressed. 
Life holds but sorrow, the sunshine is gone — 
There ! you've wakened me, who would dream on ! 



H 



AFTERMATH 

I saw a light, I saw a sail, 
I saw a tower that might fall ; 

I saw a face above the rail — 
And darkness was the bier and pall. 

I saw a boat, I heard a cry, 
Oh fearful stormed the waves at sea! 

But there the light was, high and dry, 
Thou wert so safe, so far from me. 

Thy candle held above my head. 
Thou wert secure from storm and shocks; 

Nor saw, when darkness was long fled, 
The broken ship upon the rocks. 



15 



GENERATIONS 

Oh woeful hopes, I see thee cast — 
The children of my hopeless past 

And thou art bleeding, weary, sore — 
Cast down to earth to shine no more! 

Oh woeful hopes, I see thee lie 
Before me in thy misery — 

And yet, shall come a brighter day, 
Thy children rise to light my way .' 



i6 



REMEMBRANCE 

I have not sung for long, oh far off Paradise, 
There is no power strong enough to draw me to thy 
way, 

Thy golden towers, both night and day. 
Still shining in mine eyes. 

I have not sung for ages, oh far off Melody, 
My harpstrings now are bent in muteness and dis- 
tress. 
Thy sunlit hilltops I still see, as onward I press; 
And still my heart must soar and sing at happy 
thought of Thee! 



17 



BABBIE 

I hear the patter of little feet, 

Into my life she has danced her way, 

And the sound of her baby voice, laughing and sweet, 

Serves as the balm that drives sorrow away. 

For she is so dainty and small. 

And round eyed, and serious and fair, 

And naughty at times, but I care not at all, 

For Baby is mine, from her heels to her hair. 

When I rise in the morning she's with me, 

And she echoes each word that I say; 

And her nearness and dearness is realler by far 

Than the faces I see every day. 

When I go up to bed she is with me. 

Thus I rest all the easier upon 

A pillow of dreams, but when daybreak is come 

I awaken and weep; She is gone! 

For She's only a Dreamchild in truth. 

And only in dreams do I know her the best, 

'Tis only in dreams I can croon to her low, 

To make sure she is really at rest. 

Yes, only in dreams to behold her. 

For they all permit me to see 

What waking time takes from me, leaving me lone. 

Oh Dreamchild, become real to me! 



j8 



THE MOTHER SINGS AGAIN 

The wind is blowing in the treetops, 

Slumber little One, mine, all mine; 

The air is sweet with brightest scented drops. 

Slumber little One, mine, all mine! 

Through the clear air sweet voices are ringing, 

The breaths that you draw keep time to their singing. 

Oh love, oh my little One close thy bright eyes ; 

For I keep a watch over thee! 

The wind is murmuring soft o'er thy resting place, 

Slumber little One, mine so long gone ! 

'Tis long since I looked on thy quietly sleeping face ; 

Slumber little One, mine so long gone! 

My heart is an ache with the memory of thee, 

The earth is a dreary old place, love for me; 

Oh love, oh my little One, closed are thy bright eyes, 

And Heaven is joyful in thee ! 



19 



rOd 



FAITH 

One more bend in the road, 
One more turn in the wall, 

And the well-known footsteps die away. 
They will hasten no more at my call. 

One more bend in the road, 
One backward glimpse at the past 

For the eyes are blind to the path on ahead, 
And the change that shall come at last. 

One more corner to round. 
One more flagstone to tread, 

And tomorrow a Nation may dine at my board. 
Or be granting me shelter and bread. 

One more dark passage to come, 
One more sharp sorrow to bear ; 

But still in the sunlight I'll lift up my head, 
And feel its warm radiance there. 



I' 






20 



THE VISION OF CHRIST 

Who wears this Image next his heart, 
No sun shall beat but he can bear. 
The season's bloom afresh for him 
Because of It, whose eyes are dim 
Shall see a Holier radiance there. 

No mournful note shall wail on ear. 
Nor needless sorrow touch his eyes ; 
Forgetting misery, grief and woe, 
Through years of happy faith shall go 
On wings of light to Paradise. 

Who wears this Image next his heart 
Long years his hope shall radiant shine. 
The groping see the light It brings. 
The dumb ears hear the song It sings, 
And seeing, hearing, rise Divine. 

His message in his daily deed, 
No pen needs he to ply his art. 
And though he stumble by the way. 
He finds, somewhere, the light of day. 
Who wears this Image next his heart. 



21 



iM 



THE GHOST MOTHER 

Oh give me the nightime sky, 
When the wind is still, and the moon is high. 

Hours of midnight I do not dread. 
Nor the Vision that sits by my lonely bed. 

Oh give me the darkest night, 
And never come near me v\^ith candle light. 

Cool are her hands, and her arms so near — 
Oh why should I dread her when she is so dear? 

Oh give me the hours of sleep. 
When others are slumbering, and watchers weep. 

By me at midnight, and smiling above. 
Is the ever dear presence of One I love. 

Oh give me the night of peace, 
I would the darkness might never cease. 

They have denied me the comforting touch 
Of hands that I crave, and I need them so much ! 



22 



INFINITE LOVE 

Oh love lend me your silvery wings, 

Wet with the nightly dew ; 

Sprinkled with stars and the dew of desires; 

That I may fly to you! 

Bright are your eyes as that dew of desires, 

Deep are their depths as an azure sky, 

Burneth my heart with a million fires; 

Kindled forever, and never to die. 

Oh love lend me your lyre of gold. 

Strings that are bent with the chords of song. 

Notes that respond at your happy touch, 

And within me vibrate long. 

Sweet is your voice as the linnets call. 

Tones that flow with the Singer's grace ; 

Words unknown, that to me cry out, 

I think lovely as your face. 

Oh love lend me your power to love. 
Though great is my own in my breast, 
Greater by far than can ever be told. 
Or ever can be expressed ; 
Still you see how I fumble and falter. 
Each song is so poorly addressed. 
Oh love, lend me all your great power 
That I mav at last be at rest! 



23 



THE PROBLEM 

What's a Widow ? Who can tell 

The heights of mind She dwells within ? 

Be it seaside, shore, or dell. 

There's not a soul who knows Her well 

Enough to wear a boastful grin. 

What's a Widow? Who can write 
In language full, and language free 
The records of Her, pure and white, 
Without temptation hoves in sight 
To add "What next of Her will be?" 

What's a Widow? Who can sing 
Her praises with his tongue or pen. 
And still be unmoved if She bring 
Her instrument of harp and string 
To pay his flattery back again? 

What's a Widow? Who's so old 
That heart and pulses fluttered not 
At glance of eye in days of old; 
Before he learned that Hers was cold 
And his was warmed to burning hot ? 

What's a Widow? How can they 
Who know Her ever dare to sing 
Of other women, whom they say, 
Have depth of sweetness put away? 
For Hers is shown in everything. 



H 



LOOSENING FINGERS 

Keep me yet a little while, 
Nor let me slip so far away ! 
I only live to see your smile, 
You are my light, my life, my day. 

Hold me yet a little longer, 

Life's too short to live alone ; 

And I have need of something stronger, 

Something I can call my own. 

Hold me yet a little closer! 
Day grows dim, and shadows fall ; 
You are mine, my rock, my fortress. 
Overlord, and King of all. 

Loosen not, oh wavering fingers! 
Darkness falls, I cannot see. 
Fainter grows the clasp, and lingers 
Fainter in my memory. 



25 



TO ONE WITH MANY LOVERS 

Oh Songbird spread thy wings and soar 
Into the blue and sunlit sky, 

But perch above my chamber door 
When night is nigh. 

Thy crimson wings with edge of gold 
In daytime please the hearts of men, 

But in the darkness and the cold 
Forgotten are again. 

Thy voice is now a clarion call, 
And clear and sweet is heard thy song, 

And thou art chief among them all, 
For fame is strong. 

But when the sun sets in the west, 
And song and labor cease to be. 

And thou must find a faithful breast, 
There'll be but me. 

Ah, now they feel thy gracious power, 
Thy message and thy song they heed ! 

But when shall come the darkened hour. 
Then thou shalt need. 

No place to rest ye'll ever find, 
No nest, no birdlings, and no mate ; 

And loneliness, and sorrowing mind 
Will be thy fate. 



26 



Oh Songbird spread thy wings so bright, 
For day is sweet in which to reign, 

But come again before the night 
Brings with it pain. 

The fickle world that loves thee so. 
The songs of praise that thou dost hear. 

Will soon be dust; but thou wilt know 
I hold thee dear. 



a? 



WORTHLESS 

I saw their faces loom before me as I turned the 

pages o'er, 
And some were bad, and some were good, though all 

were doing what they could. 
Of them I read with interest, yet none I voted as 

the best. 

I saw their names all written down before me in 

their great renown, 
And some I knew, and some I guessed were not as 

famous as the rest. 
I scanned them with a careless eye, and sighed, and 

then I passed them by. 

I saw their lives laid bare and plain, and read their 

stories once again ; 
I knew their feasts and revelries, and follies, and 

great flippancies. 
I saw their children, and their sires; yet none were 

worth affection's fires. 

I saw their kindnesses all traced, and some had wept, 

and some embraced. 
I felt them near, and heard them tell each hope, 

each fancy passing well. 
I left them to another's care, and closed the book, 

YOU were not there. 



28 



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TO MY MOTHER 

When you are old and wrinkled, 
And your hair has turned to gray, 
And your loveliness and gaiety. 
And youth has passed away — 

I shall gaze upon your grey hairs, 
When with age your dear head's crowned. 
And love you just the same. Dear 
As when you were first renowned. 

When you are old and sorrowful, 
And tears your face have marred. 
And all your life's a past to you 
With sins and crosses scarred — 

How rev'rently I'll speak Dear 
Of a past that's gold to me, 
And I'll forget the shadows 
That to you, must always be. 

When you are old and helpless, 
And your weary feet shall fall 
On the roadside that you trod, Dear, 
Once the gayest of them all — 

What a privilege I'll count it 
To have the chance so blest 
To help you up rejoicing 
Till you sink at last to rest. 



29 



When you are old and feeble, 
And your eyes shall close at last, 
And the hands so busy, eager. 
Shall in blessed sleep be clasped — 

I shall pray and wait in sunshine 
Of sweet patience, tried, and true. 
To linger till the Master comes 
To take me home to you. 

Though you be old and weak Dear 
When those golden streets you tread, 
There shall come a light so glorious 
That will shine about your head — 

And I, when joining you there, 
After years of love so true. 
Will be such a happy Angel 
If I may but stay near you ! 



3C 



IN THE CITY OF THE GREAT 
July to August, 1 91 5 

Upon the walks where They have trod 
I see my shadow bend and nod. 

And where the lights and music lie 
One who loves Them shall pass Them by. 

Upon the streets where they have passed 
My very steps shall fall at last, 

And after patient years of prayer 
I, too, shall walk among them there. 

Between me and my daily thought 
The sun shone on the gifts they brought. 

And yet, it is enough for me 
To be where Thev once used to be. 



31 






THE UNATTAINABLE 
July to August, 1915 

Out of the myriads of wealth heaped about me, 
Out of the fortunes that sparkle and gleam, 

Out of the hopes that no more throng about me, 
See, I have left, Dear, the little old dream! 

Now I have riches, desires are granted. 
Countries explored that I once longed to see, 

Harvest now gathered where just seeds were 
planted. 
Tended and watched over only by me. 

Dear to my heart were the treasures awaited. 
Many the times when they faded in air. 

Still, I was patient, I knew I was fated 
Some day to waken and find them all there. 

Out of the myriads of wealth heaped about me. 
Out of the promises life doth fulfill. 

Out of the hopes that no more throng about me, 
Rises the dream of you, shadowy still. 



32 



TO AMSTERDAM AVE. 
July to August, 1 91 5 

Oh little street, whereon I tread, 
And daily forth I fare, 

How long my heart for you hath bled, 
How dear you were to One not there! 

If you could know that as I slept 
I stood upon you, as a Child, 

And woke to find you gone, and wept; 
And in my heart bemoaned you wild — 

If you could know how dear you are 
To One who dreamt of you so long, 

When you must once again be far 
You'll glory in my unheard song. 



1 "* 



WRITTEN IN 191 1 

I inherited dancing from Mother, 
From Father I learned how to play, 
From Grandma I learned how to drink tea 
In Fifth Ave. mansions each day. 
From Aunt Bess I learned how to dabble 
In oil paints, and colors so rare; 
And Uncle Ted read to me novels. 
Where Heroines always are fair. 

Then my Cousin Amelia, She taught me 
To 'brolder on linen so fine — 
Oh there's not a member of our house 
Hasn't once owned these talents of mine. 
Except Grandpa, he's simple, dear old Soul! 
Without any leanings to art ; 
I guess that Is mostly the reason 
He's got the best place in my heart. 



34 



TO A CUBAN GIRL 

Senorita Carmelita has the blackest hair, 

It hangs down to her knees, unbound, 

And yet, her skin is fair. 

And when she stamps her tiny foot. 

Or waves her fan so slow, 

I'll warrant no heart ever went 

The speed she makes mine go ! 

Senorita Carmelita's eyes are brown as woods in May, 

And lights within them are the sun 

Come peeping through at break of day. 

And when she claps her tiny hands, 

I take them in my own, 

And tell her that She is so gay 

I fear her love has flown! 

Senorita Carmelita's soul is pure as Angel sighs, 

And though she pouts, and frowns, and scoffs, 

A tender light is in her eyes. 

And if I falter at the hour 

When words should be so fine, 

I'll read my answer in her smile, 

And feel she will be mine. 



35 



TO LUCILE 

There are lilies, it is true, 
White and pure as the soul of you. 

Once I found within a wood, 
Flowers as rare, but not as good. 

There are stars up in the skies, 
Nearly bright as are your eyes ; 

There are roses and tulips 
Most as crimson as your lips. 

Oh good heart, as true as gold. 
There are those with thoughts untold. 

But they ever silent are, 
How shall we know if they care? 

There are distant ones who come. 
Seldom are they in your home ; 

Yet, if we could read them through. 
They are worshippers of you. 

They are courteous, passing gay, 
With jests on lips they take their way; 

Yet, the ages will reveal 
Written on their hearts, Lucile. 



36 



HIS ROSE 

In the sun dialed garden grows 

His Rose. 

And though we toil and strive our best 

To do as He does, with the rest; 

We have no knack, we lack the care 

To make a rival flourish there. 

His Rose has blossomed, while ours droop, 

Group after group. 

In its bed blooms, hour by hour. 
His Flower. 

And though we plant, and weed, and sigh. 
Our fairest Ones soon droop and die. 
And wide eyed, hungrily, we yearn; 
And feel our hearts with envy burn. 
As we behold his, straight and tall, 
From o'er the wall. 

Our petals are a crimson hue, 
But his are too. 

Our hearts are golden, his so gold 
Our eyes are dim when we behold. 
More wonderful than tongue or pen 
Can sing, or dare describe again. 
His treasure and his joy and pride 
Lives, when ours died! 

All honor to his lovely Queen, 
The best that's been! 
The labor of his hands, at start 
A dream unrealized in his heart. 
And we forget what our hope is 
To come and mutely worship his — 
The loveliest flower that ever grows, 
His Rose. 

37 



THE UNWEARYING SINGER 

I love my little window 
Where the light comes stealing in, 

And lays it's rosy fingers round 
When morning shall begin. 

The golden rays of sunlight 
That are mingled with the shade, 

Make my dwelling place a haven, 
Where life's glory cannot fade. 

I love my little resting place, 
With whitest linen spread, 

O'er me a downy comforter, 
A pillow for my head. 

And when I lay me down at night 
Upon that couch so fine. 

My glad heart prays, "Oh bless for me 
This little bed of mine!" 

I love my little memories, 
I count them with great care, 

The emblems of far places seen. 
And joyous happenings there. 

A ribbon, or a letter, 
A fragrant flower pressed ; 

And here are days long past and gone. 
And hopes now sunk to rest. 



38 



I love my little bedroom 
With a love that will not cease, 

It draws me here, and I shall stay 
Within its walls of peace. 

I love it all, a great, great love, 
Within this room of blue; 

And here I'll sing forevermore, 
And hope and wait for you. 



39 



AFTER THE RAIN 

The clouds have wept their grief away 
Onto the old earth's tender breast, 

Departed is the rainy day; 
And all the world's at rest. 

The little birds on yonder tree 

Enfold their wings in slumber light, 

And happy will my Songster be 

To rest him through the quiet night. 

Your eyes are brown, oh little Child, 
All day they dance in childish play ; 

But now they droop with weariness. 
So sleep the tired hours away. 

I sit beside you as I sing, 

I love you more than tongue can tell ; 
Sweet promises will dreamland bring, 

My little Child, so rest you well ! 



40 



A LEGEND 

"I can no more walk," said the Indian, 
''My feet are both tired and sore. 

So I'll pitch my camp near this river, 
And travel this evening no more. 

My Squaw, she shall spread me a blanket 
Of soft balsam boughs for my bed ; 

And cook me a supper so tempting 
Before sunset gleams, fiery red. 

I shall gather my Braves all about me, 
We'll feast on deer meat in grease: 

And to pledge us to faithfulness always, 
We'll smoke the good Pipe of Peace, 

Our camp fire will gleam in our faces. 
And fill us with peace and good will. 

And perhaps, if no neighbors annoy us. 
After years we'll be camping here still." 

So lo! The great Indian settled 

His camp by the riverside, 
And as years hastened by, he remained there. 

And living there, peacefully died. 

He never dreamed population 

Would follow w^here he used to walk, 

And casting about for a name for the town 
Would call it Oconomowoc. 



41 






A CHRISTMAS CAROL 

Ye Angel descended on earth to rest, 

With ye bright little stars looking down ; 

And He gazed on the Babe on His Mother's warm 
breast, 
With ye bright little stars looking down. 

A carol He sang in the midnight sky, 
With ye bright little stars looking down, 

And He hung up the star for the Wisemen to spy; 
With ye bright little stars looking down. 

As to Heaven He winged on His joyous, glad way. 
With ye bright little stars looking down. 

He breathed a bright blessing on Christ's Natal day; 
With ye bright little stars looking down. 

So my Baby, sleep safe on Your Mother's warm 
breast. 

With ye bright little stars looking down. 
For the good Angel comes but to see thee at rest; 

With ye bright little stars looking down. 

He takes many babies up with him on high. 
With ye bright little stars looking down, 

But He smiles on my Baby and passes him by ; 
With ye bright little stars looking down. 



42 



A WOODLAND REVERIE 

All down the shining path I come, 
Midst autumn boughs in bloom. 
The pinecones crunch beneath my feet, 
The willows part to give me room. 
I hear above my lifted head. 
With whirr of wings, the wood Dove pass; 
And catch a glimpse of nymphs afoot, 
Beyond the roadside, in the grass. 

All down the woodland path I stray, 
As we have done but yesterday; 
My joyous feet tread once again 
The road of comfort after pain. 
The sun will soon be set and gone. 
And e'er it goes I must be on. 
My promised land I cannot see, 
But oh! how fair it is to me! 

All down the shining path I come. 
There's laughter on my lips today. 
Oh smile on world, nor try to tell 
How vain is joy, how far away! 
The Mother Bird upon the nest 
Must surely stir from midst of dim 
And shadowy grey reveries. 
To wake to joy at sight of him. 



43 



All down the shady path I flit, 
And pause to peep and peer a bit. 
The silent woods, at my clear call, 
Give echoes back, and that is all. 
The dimming aisles are long to tread. 
When love is surely but ahead ! 
And so I know they're wrong to say 
My heart's desire, is far away. 



44 



TO MRS. W. B. W. 

Silver the crown on a Queen so fair, 
I do not ask You her crown to wear. 

More precious still are the memories of You ; 
You are a Queen with your silver crowned hair. 

Bright are the diamonds she wears in that crown, 
Diamonds she'll have till her life be laid down. 

I care not for them, for You are the one 

Whose diamond bright eyes are the brightest in 
town. 

Beauty is hers, that proud Queen of a race, 

Beauty to shadow the loveliest face. 
"Keep your looks, Scornful one, long as you may, 

For We think beautiful a Mother's face!" 

Wealth she has plenty of. Queen of all Rome, 
Wealth that lies heaped about, over the foam. 

Oh but far wealthier, with love and kindliness. 
You reign supreme in your kingdom called home! 



45 



THE SOLDIER'S RETURN 

Gay are the roses that nod in your garden, 

Loveliest of roses, my Leonore! 

Weary am I of the war's loud alarms, 

'Tis long since, reluctant, I went from your arms. 

And I pause at the place where your roses call. 

And nod to me over the wall. 

White are the lilies that bloom in your garden. 
Whitest of lilies, my Leonore! 
Glad were the beds when you planted them there 
To flourish delightedly under your care. 
Perhaps I am weary, because it is true 
That I want to be greeted by you. 

Content are the breezes that blow in your garden. 
Fairest of Maidens, my Leonore! 
Low o'er the daisies they pass, and they sweep. 
With the softest of murmurs, the couch where you 

sleep. 
They carry sweet fragrance, where I vainly call 
'Mong the roses that sigh o'er the wall. 

Thick is the woodbine that grows in your garden. 

Sweetest of Maidens, my Leonore! 

How lightly its tendrils it lays all about 

With the tendrest of touches, and weaves in and out, 

'Till you're covered as lovingly, as you have kept 

Watch o'er it, when like you, it has slept ! 



46 



THREE HYMNS 
Morning 

I hear glad voices carolling, 

It is the dawn of day, 
The birds are chanting notes of joy. 

It is my hour to pray. 

To pray in glad thanksgiving 

For strength this day from Thee, 

For hopes of better living. 
Though sorrows may not flee. 

My life is but a slender thread, 
But morn is mine so grand ; 

I feel His Holy presence here, 
And clasp His friendly hand. 

Arise, oh world, and hasten 

To see the sun appear; 
Make haste, for in the morning 

The Master doth appear. 

Noon 

Along the path of life 

My weary feet do stray. 
And in the glare of noontide heat 

I pause, to pray. 
With sorrows surging 'round me here 

That I feel not, if thou art near. 



47 



Along the path of life 

My weary feet do pass, 
Now shade, now sunshine, stony roads 

Beneath my feet, or grass. 
Yet Thy strong arm shall guide me far 

To where the cooler meadows are. 

Along the path of life 

I walk with joyous tread, 
For I no longer weary am 

Since Thou the way hast led. 
Why should I be alone, afraid. 

With Thee for comfort, love, and aid ? 

Evening- 

The sun has gone to rest, 

And the birds in sleep repose. 

And the tumult in my breast 
Has departed where day goes. 

And so, peacefully, I lie 

On my couch at end of day ; 
Oh good Saviour! pass not by 

A wan traveller who would pray. 

Now my lids rest on my cheek, 

And my hands, released, sink low. 

And my weary limbs would seek 

Rest where night winds softly blow. 

Though a hovel is my share, 
And a crust my evening meal, 

Yet I still can breathe a prayer, 
At Thy footstool yet can kneel, 

48 



CONSTANCY 

How pleasant are thy peaceful ways 
When other loves have come and gone; 

How happy are thy quiet days 
When other joyful days are done! 

Oh I would tread upon these paths, 

And in these lanes, nor seek for strife; 

Nor know that storms must come again 
To mar my uneventful life. 

To rise up in the pleasant morn 
And seek thy face, thy smile adore; 

Or lay me down at close of day. 
Within thy peace forevermore. 

How pleasant are Thy quiet ways 

When other ways have held but tears — 

Oh! be with me where e'er I go 

Throughout the coming, unseen years! 



49 



19 1 5 LULLABY 

Sleep little Child! 
Your crib is new and clean, 
Your room is ventilated well, 
You're sheltered with a screen. 
Your nursery's sanitary, 
No lights your sleep annoy, 
No kisses give our "germs" to j^ou; 

Slumber little Boy! 

Sleep little Child! 
No Mother's clasp so warm 
Shall hold you fast upon her breast, 
'Twould only do you harm. 
No teething ring for you, 
No wooly, painted toy; 
You live in 191 5 Child; 

Slumber little Boy! 

Sleep little Child! 
Your Mother's love so grand 
Is checked by methods, that prevent 
Her holding of your hand. 
And yet I'm sure she loves you well. 
Though clubs her time employ. 
You'll never miss her, anyway; 

Slumber little Boy! 



50 



THE PROMISED LAND 

Oho little House of mine own! 

Thy windows shine bright in the sun. 
Like ten myriads of stars, where the clouds passing by 

Nod gaily, and call in the heavens so high; 
Like dew drops of morning on grass clover grown 

Are thy crystal panes, House of mine own! 

Oho little House of my heart! 

Thy nooks are a refuge to me, 
Like a haven for ships from the fierce storms that 
blow. 

Like a period of peace after strife and grief go. 
Like a soothing soul near me, who bids woe depart 

Are thy quiet spots, House of my heart! 

Oho little House of my dreams ! 

I shall see thee when day is at rest. 
When evening comes 'round, I shall fall fast asleep, 

And I'll tread thy dear ways where such great 
hopes I keep; 
And then in thy golden halls I shall see gleams 

Of thy gifts for me, House of my dreams ! 



51 



A PARODY 

Afte?' "The Arcadians" 

I have a Sweetheart 

Always cheery and bright. 
Look at Her and you will find 

She's awfully pretty, or else you're 
blind.— 

The sun may shine, 

Or perhaps the sky's a grey one — 
I've often said to the Dear, I've said, 

"With you around all my gloom is fled — 

Oh then I'm a gay One!" 



S2 



FAME 

Fame was bathed in fragrance sweet, 
Priceless jewels were at Fame's feet; 

Fame had wreaths of laurel green, 
And crowns of gold to suit a queen. 

Fame had eyes of eager fire, 

Fame could grant a heart's desire. 

Fame was wise, and Fame was clever, 
And she drooped and slumbered, never. 

Fame had eager words of praise, 
Fame had gifts to last always. 

She had years of eager greed 
She granted to a soul in need. 

Fame was fair to look upon, 

And whispered, "Now the goal is won. 
Health and youth who once held sway 

As boon companions, where are they?" 



53 



A FRAGMENT 

Grey hopes, and the world awakes, 

And the twittering birds in the silent dawn 

With their joyous hearts, are aroused again. 

O'er the dew laden meadows the daylight breaks, 

The mist covered sun comes toiling on ; 

And down the glass drips the ceaseless rain. 

Dead hopes; but the earth is not dead; 

The voice of the Cock can be heard abroad. 

As he summons his mates to their toil once more. 

The sun breaks through, and he beams overhead 

As he dries the dew on the rested sod. 

The world has forgotten the night before. 

My hopes! But I'm not downcast. 
For though life has no portion but pain. 
And I grope with the touch of the blind ; 
Through the clouds breaks the light of my life at 

last; 
My grief is stilled once again. 
And my heart shall have love 'round it twined. 



54 



UNRECOGNIZED 

I saw you in the happy flowers, 

And all the summer waking hours, 

I felt you in the sunny air; 

Your love for me was everywhere. 

I heard you in an ancient song. 

And in my book you lingered long. 

I saw you in the solitudes 

Of all my favorite walks and woods. 

I saw you in the mirrored pool, 
Where river laps its edges cool, 

I homeward went, across the lot 
And met you, but I knew you not. 



11 



SPRING 

Now on every leafless tree 

Buds their formless hearts, unclose, 
And lo ! on every bush we see 

A sleeping rose! 

Spring her happy birdsong sends. 
And joyfully we call her love; 

While, wistful, o'er the rose she bends 
That does not move. 

Ah Spring! Thy coming will not make 
Her lift her drooping head, nor stir ; 

But still, in time you might awake 
The rose, if you will call to her ! 



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TO BARRIERS PAN 

Oh most beautiful ; 
Winging it heavenward; 
Descend here, that I may 
Go with you where you dwell. 

You see the sunrise ; 
And I see but darkness; 
Descend to my valley; 
Enshroud me with sunshine. 

Leave me not for others 
Less faithful than I am, 
Endow me with gladness 
Oh! youth, so eternal! 



57 



THE ADORED ONE 

She came like music on the wind, 
A Fairy-Elf, a Witch, who tore 
Our hearts with her strange flutterings, 
And feet that danced upon the floor. 
Her gown as simple as her heart, 
Her song as unaffected-art! 

She went like music on the wind, 
And with her all the rainbow skies 
That with her coming wrapt us round, 
And bathed us all in happy sighs. 
But the sweet melodies she wove, 
Unconscious of them, they were Love! 



58 



A VALENTINE 

My Lady, satin for thy feet 

Oh! would I to thee always treat, 

That where thy step hast lightly prest, 
That way shall men revere as blest. 

My Lady, golden be thy gown 

When e'er thou farest through the town, 
That all who see thee might proclaim 

A blessing on my Lady's name. 

My Lady, roses in their hair 

Such loves as thou art always wear. 

Though ne'er a rose will ever be 
The half of what thou art to me. 

My Lady will not deck her feet, 

Nor gown of gold flaunt in the street. 

My Lady will no rose or gem ; 

She finds life lovelier far than them! 



S9 



RECOLLECTION 

Singing, she went across the fields, 
Her step as light as the wind at noon, 

Her lips were as red as the June rose fair 

That I fastened, myself, in her coal black hair. 

Her soul was as sweet as her melody. 

And her heart was as pure as that old time tune. 

Singing, she went across the fields. 

And her voice was as clear as the frosty air. 
The memory of her is as dear as her eyes ; 

Her days were as fleet as a bird that flies. 
My thoughts are of her on this night in the spring- 
time. 
And they cross the same fields, to her slumbering 
there. 



6C 



THE LAND OF DREAMS 

Why do these thoughts of mine stray so far? 

Why? And where find I my love and Star? 
What is my hope that I can console 

Myself for her absence and keep love whole? 

Why do these thoughts of mine stray and flit 
Through sunshine and shadow, though I still sit 

Immovable here, when the sunlight gleams 

Where desires are granted in countries of dreams? 

Why do these thoughts of mine sing and soar 
Beyond these four walls and my prison door? 

Why do I smile, when my hungry heart 

If wakened to real things must ache and smart? 

There's naught in this old world can put to rest 
The same old hunger within my breast 

To see her once more, but the sunlight gleams 
And desires are granted in countries of dreams. 



6i 



A TOAST 

Here's to the Woman who stays at home, 

And is sheltered, both mother and wife ; 

Here's to the Woman in silks and in jewels 

Who leads a gay butterfly life. 

Here's to the modern Suffragette, 

Whether or not She reaches the polls. 

And here's to the writer of books and of plays ; 

And her who daubs faces, and often men's souls. 

And here's to the Woman, bored man's Benefactress ; 

She has many names, but we call her the Actress. 



62 



CONTENTMENT 

Written in school 

Fire in town! 
I can hear the old bell, with its solemn voice, in the 

town outside. 
I count the strokes in an awestruck tone, 
With the dreadful beats that are always known; 
And I hear at a distance the sound of hoofs 
As the horses trot by through the town outside. 

Fire in town! 
I am shut within, and no answering shouts shall ever 

fall 
On my eager ears, I shall never find 
That the streets of the town with their daily grind 
Are open to me at my own free will ; 
That I stand unfettered among them all. 

Fire in town! 
What avails it with me ? 
I am safe in these walls, so safe in my cell ! 
No changes shall mar my peaceful life here. 
And I lie awake in the daybreak clear, 
As the hours creep silently on. All's well ! 



63 



JOURNEY'S END 

Oh blest to feel, when even falls, 
The kindly darkness close around. 

Nor fear the dim, encircling walls 

Of night, for there just peace is found. 

No care, no strife the Pilgrim finds. 
He sees the sun set in the west 

As homeward o'er the hill he winds 
To seek repose and well earned rest. 

When he shall Heavenward finally turn. 
And know no more of earthly toil. 

How short a time he'll take to learn 
To tread on the Eternal soil! 

Oh blest to feel when even falls, 
And low the head that used to be 

A well-known one within our halls, 
The promise of Eternity! 



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